Trader of Hearts
by 4getfulimaginator
Summary: CS Mafia!AU. All her life, she's only known their darkness. He is overshadowed by the demons of his past. But together, unshackled from a timeless feud, they could be more: they could share one heart. Captain Swan one-shot.


**A/N: Originally posted on Tumblr and based exclusively on a Tumblr prompt from **_kendracs_**. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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"They said that you're dangerous." She tentatively sipped on the champagne he had offered her with a sinful smile. "They said that you've killed hundreds and thrown their bodies into the sea."

His eyebrow raised defiantly. "_Thousands._ And drained their blood to feed my soul, in addition." He scoffed darkly, his rick chuckles echoing through the vast room. "_They_ shouldn't have told you old wives' tales, my dear."

She turned her back on him, something Cora had ordered she _not_ do. _Fuck her_. "Probably around the lines of what they told you about me."

"Oh?" She could hear him stand up and stretch languorously, his footsteps indicating that he was approaching her from behind. "That you're a lady of the night, and yet you've never taken any man into your bed? That you have no loyalties? That you're an _orphan_?"

"Look here," she snapped, livid that he knew things he shouldn't, "this wasn't _my_ goddamned idea. I wasn't the one who agreed on a whim to marry the head dancer of the _Mills Soiree_ after seeing her _picture_ one time. To be a mediating pawn in the middle of some stupid gang war that's been going on forever. All of this," she gestured violently at the luxurious decorations, the lavish furniture and articles strewn about the bedroom suite, "is not my fucking dream or anything. _I_ didn't want this."

He cleared his throat pointedly. "It wasn't _one_ time, actually - more like every night till now, without any pants on meanwhile." He gave her a lascivious smirk and she rolled her eyes. "And for the record, so you won't kill me for not asking…what _do_ you want?"

She bowed her head, still afraid to look at him. The ceremony had been fast and simple, no frills or cheering crowd to goad her on, to make her feel that this getup was right. She had been their slave, forced to do their bidding. Now, she was his - formally and legally. "I don't know," she whispered softly. "I only know…that I didn't want to be some stranger's wife-"

"Ah - you want _love_." His hands covered the thin straps of her dress, tugging them down. "You want real family, not some farce." His mouth danced over her neck, and she wondered if the tender kisses she felt him place there were imaginary. "You want to escape from the life Cora has given you since you were abandoned as a child - to find a true home, not a prison."

"And I'd find this with _you_?" she snorted, stifling a gasp when he nibbled on her ear. "With a cold-hearted murderer who only thinks of himself, hell-bent on revenge?"

He unzipped her gown, slowly peeling it off until she was left in only her brassiere and underwear, shivering from the cold air. When she refused to react, to face him, he made her, hands on her hips as he turned her around and took her into arms. "You shouldn't judge me without knowing me, love," he purred, hand sliding down to cup her breast. The cuffs of his shirt were unbuttoned, his shirt wide open, his tie gone. With his mussed hair and dilated eyes, he was the spitting image of all her clients when she told them they could look, but not touch.

Struggling to get away from him, she hissed, "I don't want to know you. I don't want to be _anything_ with you."

He forced her to look into his eyes by violently grabbing the back of her neck and tilting her face upward, squeezing her breast viciously with his other hand. "Emma, you're my _wife_."

"And you're my _husband_, Killian," she snarled, cringing when he stroked her cheek with one finger. "You can use my body as you wish - you can take me whenever you want and I'd have no say in the matter - but there's one thing you'll never get from me."

"And what's that?" he said, his voice muffled as he explored her shoulders, nuzzling them.

She trembled. "My heart." A tear traitorously trickled down her nose.

He tsked when he saw it, and she felt like she was plummeting when he wiped it away, uncharacteristic gentleness in his touch in contrast to his icy stare and grim smile. "Darling, you have no idea how tired I am of this nefarious existence. The way I come home every night to a mansion that's empty and cold, filled with treasures but devoid of life. The plunder I partake in but find no use for." He released her from his embrace, shrugging off his shirt onto a chair and strolling up to the wide glass window in front of them.

"Just so you know how much of a blackguard I am," he spat out bitingly, his back facing her, "there's only been one woman who's lived in this house before. Well…she _visited_ very often. Does the name Milah mean anything to you?"

"You were with Gold's-"

"Yes." His eyes flickered to her and then back up at the full moon. "See, I was a fool. I thought it was great love," he drawled, "that what we had together was forever. How was I to know that she only fancied a fuck with a clueless boy she could toss to the side as soon as her husband found out?"

"But you loved her." She said it with awe, because the pain in his posture and how he pursed his lips together, a faint sniffle the tell-tale sign she recognized so well, made her hope against her better sense that maybe this man wasn't the monster she had expected.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Aye…I did. I shouldn't have, but I did. Guess what happened when Gold discovered Milah's dirty little secret."

"I don't-"

"Guess!" he hissed in command, his eyes flashing an erupting volcano of ire. "Or at least tell me your side's version."

Emma covered her bare arms with her hands, wishing she could be in her own bed at home - even if that was in that hovel of a boarding house all the strippers had to live in. "Gold gave Milah a choice: her life…or yours. She chose hers. And when he was about to order his men to tear you apart with bullets…you grabbed the nearest knife and stabbed her through the heart." She shuddered. "He made you his right-hand man after that."

He grinned maliciously at her. "And here we are, _Princess_."

Rolling her eyes at his use of her work nickname, she approached the vanity mirror and took her hairbrush from her toiletries. When her hand lifted to her head, she felt his hand curl around her wrist and make her drop the brush, letting it fall to the ground.

"There's no need for that," he whispered, fingers reaching between her thighs. He began to kiss frantically along her throat, groping at her curves with the frenzy of a madman.

"Fucking me won't solve your problems," she gasped out, trying to elude him. "It won't change your history with her, or that you're now with me."

"But," he nipped at her collarbone, "it will make me feel so much better, don't you think?"

Her mouth was so near his that their breaths were mingling as one, and she became entranced by the blue hue of his gaze, losing herself in its depths. _Like a sheep led to slaughter._

Then he raised a brow at her challengingly, and she knew he was up to trouble. "How about a dance, Swan?"

"I don't dance," she sneered. "Not anymore."

His eyes narrowed. "For a wager, then. If you give me a lap dance and you admit that you don't want more, I won't touch you tonight. But if you do…" His grin was deadly. "Well, that's when the fun begins."

She groaned. What she wouldn't give for a good night's sleep and an early breakfast. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Undress. I'll be sitting here in the chair."

"Un-"

"You heard me." His voice was firm and unconquerable.

Hesitating, she unclasped the back of her bra, shimmying off her underpants in less than a minute. He wasn't the first man to have seen her naked, but there was something more unsettling about Killian devouring the sight of her as he unclothed himself completely and then sat down on the mahogany armchair in the corner.

"Close the curtains."

Hating to obey him but having no choice, she pulled the drapes. When she made no move to turn on the lights, he hinted, "I prefer it with the lights on."

He was waiting for her, bathed in a soft glow, his hard length jutting out already. She wallowed briefly in a feeling of discomfort, pushed it away, and focused on him. He was an extremely handsome specimen of a man…this should be easy.

Emma started to sway her hips seductively, recalling the sexy tunes the strip hall would usually play for the pole dancers. Her arms went up to frame her head, and she ran her hands through her hair, wanting to stir her audience up.

Judging by the way his erection thickened, it was working.

Straddling him slowly, she rolled her butt along his thighs, swiveling her hips and trailing a hand down his arm, encouraging him to reach out and touch her.

Looking down at him through slitted eyes, she bit her lip as she rubbed herself down his cock, purposely teasing him. He growled but was steady, holding onto her hip with one hand while the other had begun to take liberties with her body.

When she bounced her breasts in front of his face, however, his expression changed in an instant. One moment, he was under control, and the next…

"Fuck the wager."

He stood up suddenly, wrapped her legs around his waist, and lifted her up into his arms, to which she responded with an ill-timed shriek.

Throwing her down on the bed, he crawled over her, grinding his hips against hers. His lips crashed against hers, demanding entrance, and after pushing against him and fighting back, she kissed him back just as forcefully, her fingers threading through his chest hair and tugging at it.

He moaned. Killian Jones, procurer _extraordinaire_ of contraband, infamous ladies' man, and self-named gentleman, _moaned_.

"I hope you're bloody wet for me, love," he rasped as he licked down her neck, "because I'm going to ravish you now."

"And I hope you like real women in your bed," she retorted, biting down on his shoulder, "because I'm not some damsel in distress who's just going to _take_ it."

"Understood," he muttered as he buried his head between her legs and sought her inner folds, sucking on them forcefully. Feeling his tongue thrust inside her made Emma yelp. He put her legs over his shoulders and began to taste her more urgently, a series of movements that was making Emma arch against the bed.

"Oh my god," she cried out, seeing white stars in her vision.

Killian stopped short, smirked at her, and then returned to her mouth, continuing the pattern with his tongue there. His cock pressed against her, and Emma decided that it was time to take back control.

Flipping them over, she straddled him again, shaking her hair over her back so that he could have a complete view of all she had to offer. "I'm not some whore you can dominate."

"No," he replied, licking his lips and leering at her. "you're not." Lining his tip at her entrance, he sat up so that she was in his lap. "You're my wife!" He thrust upward to emphasize his words, claiming her. She nearly screamed from the mixture of pain and pleasure.

Taking her roughly, helping her lift herself up and then lower herself down on him at a frenetic pace, he leaned forward to catch her nipples in his mouth, milking them desperately, hands squeezing her behind. Her fingertips pressed into his back, grasping at his skin and yanking at his hair when he buried his face in the crook of her neck, panting and grunting.

"Fuck, Emma - you feel bloody marvelous around me!"

"Killian," she whined, "don't stop! Harder - harder!"

Her lips parted in a silent scream when her orgasm shook every part of her body, and he came with a shout as he spilled himself inside her, continuing to thrust afterwards in order to lengthen their pleasure. Turning them over, he laid her down on the bed, pulling out of her with a low groan.

She didn't think he would stay, resting his head between her breasts as they basked in the smell of sex and the vivid images of their first coupling. He then pressed timid, gentle, vulnerable kisses along her flushed skin, and when he started to retreat because she didn't initially respond to his touch, she dove into him, guiding him back inside her so they could make love properly, and the way he kissed her now was how she had always dreamed she would be kissed.

With passion.

With tenderness.

With just the smallest inkling of possible love.

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_The mansion had been sold from abroad. The decorations had been sold at auction. His Porsche had found a generous buyer. Gold had been mysteriously poisoned during the night of his benefit concert, and Cora was extremely busy chasing after her rebellious daughter Regina, who had eloped with an outsider named Daniel. _

_Thanks to Mr. Smee and a secret bank account in Switzerland, Killian Jones and his wife, Emma Swan Jones, were some of the richest socialites in Europe, cautious with their spending and careful never to appear in public._

_Unstoppable._

_Unbreachable._

_Immeasurably, impossibly happy._

_Their hearts free and intact._

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**A/N: There you have it: my first one-shot. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


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